Underground
by kaufmanl
Summary: Percy Jackson plays guitar beneath the bustling city of New York. Annabeth Chase dances in that same subway station to make a living. He's got nothing but a big heart and a six-string. She's alone with a pair of pointe shoes and a hatred of love. He needs a place to live. She's got an empty couch in her tiny apartment. AU (Alternate Universe).
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! This is my first ever Percy Jackson fanfic, so I hope you like it! This is just something I'm trying out. I have the first chapter written, so please review and let me know if you'd like me to continue. Thanks!**

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_"Mom," He'd said. "I don't want to go to college."_

He wishes he could stop playing the scene in his head.

_"Nashville," He'd told her. She still hadn't turned around. She'd always wanted him to be smart, but he could never find joy in a book._

His grip tightens on the handle of his guitar case. That's all he has. Maybe a couple of bucks, too, stuffed in the case from the last time he'd played in the park. It had been for fun, then, or for a couple extra dollars to get a new capo. Now, it seems like it might become his only hope.

_"Why do you want to go there?" She'd asked, finally looking at him, disbelief on her face. "Go to college, Percy. Get a degree in something useful. Get a job. Then you can fool around with your violin."_

_"Guitar."_

_"Whatever," She'd said dismissively, as if his past seventeen years of hard work meant nothing to her. "You're going to college."_

He squeezes his eyes shut. He should've left it there. He should've listened to her. He should've said, "Oh well, I tried. College it is, then!" Then he wouldn't be in this mess.

_"No," He'd argued, "I'm not."_

_"What was that?"_

He should've said, "Nothing." He should've walked into his room, written a song about his angst, and then set to work on his college applications.

_"I'm not going to college, Mom. I don't want to."_

_"Percy, don't be ridiculous. This is real life, now. Sometimes you have to give up what you want and settle for reality."_

He wonders what she'd meant by that. Was she speaking from experience? He'd always wondered where he got his singing voice.

_"I'm seventeen now, Mom. I know what I'm good at, and it's not school. It's music. I can play and I can sing, and I want to go somewhere with it. I won't gain anything sitting in a classroom for another four years, except for more failed tests and a permanent migraine. You used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I never had an answer. Now I know, Mom. I want to be a star. I want a record deal and a shot at my dream. Please, Mom. I'm all grown up. I'm ready to live my own life."_

He shakes his head at the memory. How stupid he'd sounded. She'd been right, all along. College was the logical choice. He should get a degree and a stable job, first. Then he'd have something to fall back on while he was chasing his impossible dream.

_"Perseus Jackson, would you listen to yourself?!" She'd cried. "You sound ridiculous. Every one in a million people gets what you want. And you are not all grown up. You're seventeen. You're a kid. You have no idea what you want."_

That makes sense. He is only a teenager. A reckless, wild, impulsive teenager who lands himself in situations like this one because he's too much of an idiot to realize his mother is right. She's always right. He should've listened. Every five-year-old wants to be a rock star. None of them get to be.

_"I know what I want, Mom. Just listen to me! You used to tell me I was gifted to be able to sing like I can. Let me use that gift. Please. I'm old enough now to start the rest of my life, and I don't want to be stuck in an office ten years from now, wishing I'd taken this chance when I could."_

That makes sense, too. He's starting to see his own reason. Still, his mother was right, because if he'd listened to her, he wouldn't be here right now.

_"Fine," She'd snapped. "Go to Nashville, Percy." He'd done a double take, not believing his ears._

_"Really?"_

How naïve. A reasonable person like his mother would never agree to a ridiculous plan like his.

_"Really. Go. But don't expect me to pay for it." His face had fallen, but he hadn't been entirely discouraged. He could get a job and make the money himself. It would take a while, but at least he could go._

It was only a few hours ago, but being unafraid and safe seemed like a feeling from ages before.

_"Alright. I can get a job. Thanks, Mom." He'd stepped toward the door, ready to start his journey._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"To get a job."_

_"So, you're really going to do this?"_

_"I thought it was okay with you."_

_"It doesn't have to be."_

_"Huh?"_

_"If you walk out that door, you're no longer my son."_

He is back there, in that apartment, all over again. He can feel the rush of fear and disbelief. He wants to go back and change the end.

_"What?"_

_"You heard me."_

_"C'mon, Mom-"_

_"Don't 'C'mon, Mom' me. I'm giving you a choice. Stay here, with a roof over your head and three meals a day, and go to college. Or run off to Nashville and have your dreams crushed."_

He can see himself move towards the door. "No, no, no," He wants to tell his past self, "don't do it."

_His hand had closed over the cold doorknob, and he'd pulled the door open. It had squeaked and groaned in protest._

He should've listened to that door. It was telling him not to go.

_He had his guitar case and the clothes on his back. He hadn't even stopped to gather some of his things. He'd stepped halfway out the door and waited for her to call him back._

"Go," She'd said, "and don't bother coming back."

And here he is.


	2. Chapter 1: Grey and Green

**Here's the first chapter! I probably won't be updating super fast, because I've got a lot on my plate right now, but I'll try my best. This is a pretty long chapter, to make up for the wait. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews!**

**Insane PJO LOver 93: Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it!**

**PercyJackson is SeaweedBrain: Sorry it made you tear up, but I'm glad you liked the chapter! Thanks for reviewing!**

**JasonXAnnabeth: Well, that's not very nice language. But thanks for reviewing, I guess.**

**Athena's Grey Owl: Thank you! The rest of the story will be split between Percy's and Annabeth's points of view. **

**Isabel: Sorry. But did you like it? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson. Nor do I own the songs ****_Kids in Love, Life of a Salesman,_**** or ****_On the Brightside. _****I wish I did, though. Those are great songs. **

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Annabeth Chase lifts her leg behind her, bending it slightly in a perfect attitude as the music ends. When her MP3 is completely silent, she lowers herself down from the tip of her pointe shoe and smiles at the three people who watched her performance. They clap politely and drop a few bills in her bucket.

"Thank you," She says, as they hurry on to their important jobs or their warm apartments. She shouldn't be complaining, though. She has an apartment (although not always warm), and that's more than most street performers can say.

She sits down atop her mat, grabbing her water bottle and sucking down half of it. Annabeth Chase, she tells herself as she drinks, you are meant for greater things. She always tells herself this, so that she doesn't lose hope. Her feet ache from being trapped in the constricting pointe shoes, but at least she's dancing. At least she's staying in shape. At least she'll be ready when her chance finally comes.

Annabeth drains her bottle and sets it down, stepping over to her MP3 and scrolling through the songs on her iPod until she finds _Kids in Love_. She presses play, striking her opening pose. A couple people gather at the sound of the music. _This is for Luke,_ she thinks to herself_, when we were just kids in love. _

She starts dancing, her mind filling with memories that move her body. She and Luke meeting at dance camp. Luke kissing her for the first time. She and Luke dropping out of high school and joining the dance troupe. She and Luke moving into their tiny apartment.

_Young love is such dumb love._

_Call it what you want,_

_it was still enough._

This was the part in the dance that she'd filled with jumps and leaps and complex movements, because it starts to hurt. She starts to think about when it all went wrong, and doing difficult moves helps distract her from this. She points her feet and kicks out her legs, letting the music rock her. This has always been her most stunning dance. More onlookers gather to watch.

_We were just kids in love_

_The summer was full of mistakes, we wouldn't learn from._

_The first kiss stole the breath from our lips._

_Why did the last one tear us apart?_

That last kiss was not her and Luke, it was Luke and her best friend, Thalia Grace. It had torn apart her life.

_Our breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol._

_We'd walk down the beach counting every star._

There were nights spent like that, although beaches were scarce in Richmond, Virginia. They'd traipse through the park, hand in hand,the night aglow with yellow streetlights. It was perfect. Annabeth pours love into these few moves, portraying the reckless happiness she'd felt back then, a high school dropout with nothing but a boyfriend and some dance shoes.

_We're falling down, can we pick up the pieces?_

_We're at an all time low, how do we get it back?_

_We're falling down, can we pick up the pieces?_

_We're falling down, can we pick up the pieces, now?_

They couldn't. Luke had shattered her heart and thrown her out on the streets. Now she let the pain out, and poured it into her dance. She fell to the ground, kicking out her legs and grasping at the air for something she could never get back.

_The first kiss stole the breath from our lips._

_Why did the last one tear us apart?_

Annabeth hits her final pose. She's drawn a sizable crowd, and they clap and drop bills in her bucket. She thanks them profusely, opens a new water bottle, and takes a couple large sips. She spots a mother with two little girls, probably tourists. Both of the girls are decked out in bright pink, and clutching dolls dressed in ballerina costumes. Annabeth decides to take advantage of this, and is about to start a fun, fast-paced acro number that will surely draw their eyes, when she sees him.

Embarrassingly enough, her first thought is, _Wow_. To put it bluntly, the dude's hot. He's tall and muscular, but not in a gross, excessive, intimidating way. He's got wild black hair, and Annabeth doesn't usually go for the rough, unkempt look, but somehow, it works. And his eyes...oh, god, his eyes. They're electric green, and, for lack of better word, dreamy. They hold that troubled, complicated look that girls go weak in the knees over.

But Annabeth is not the type of girl to go weak in the knees. She wasn't before Luke, and she definitely isn't now. Her smart, calculating eyes scan over him, and she immediately takes him in. He's worn and tired, possibly due to travelling on foot all night. His sea-green eyes are downcast, and his shoulders are slumped. Overall, his body language is depressing. _He's just lost something, _Annabeth thinks_, possibly everything. Welcome to the club._

Those deep green eyes meet her storm-grey ones. Annabeth has found quickly looking away when eyes meet to be weak and slightly flirtatious, so she holds the gaze. Green Eyes does, too. All thoughts of her acro dance are pushed from her mind as she stares. He doesn't move. Human traffic crosses in front of him, blocking him from view momentarily, but whenever they move away, he's still looking. A ridiculous thought enters her head: _Love at first sight_. She pushes it away immediately, inwardly scolding herself. Absurd. She's embarrassed it even crossed mind.

Suddenly, Green Eyes moves. Annabeth does a double-take. He's headed towards _her_.

She quickly makes up her mind to be irritated with him. The two little girls and their mother have already left. He's cost her customers and possibly a good amount of money. And she's certain l_ove at first sight_ was his fault. How dare he force such a ridiculous thought into her head?

"Hi." He's reached her now. She crosses her arms, acting annoyed.

"Can I help you?" She says curtly.

"Um, well, uh, yes," He stammers. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Alright," She sighs, "how may I help you?" He fidgets, clearly embarrassed.

"Well, uh, I'm currently a bit...tight on money." She moves closer to her bucket. She barely has enough money for just herself. She doesn't have any to spare. "Oh, no, no, no!" He says hurriedly, when he sees her inch protectively towards her earnings. "I don't want your money. I just...well, you seem to know what you're doing, and I just-"

"Any day now," She cuts in. He blushes deeper.

"I need to make some money, and I was wondering if I could perform here," He explains in a rush, gesturing to the guitar case in his hands. She shrugs.

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're the only one here," He replies, "I didn't want to hurt your business, or something. And, um, do I need a permit, or anything? I don't want to get arrested."

"No," She answers, "you don't need anything. And I don't mind you playing here. Just stay out of my way." She adds the last part for fear she sounded too nice. She doesn't want him thinking she likes him. No one can ever think that, because then they get the power to hurt her.

"Thanks," He says, starting to walk away, "and cool dance." She wants to hit him. No one here appreciates her. That dance was so much more than cool. It was a piece of her, a beautiful, emotional story told through dance, and the greatest compliment she's ever gotten on it is "cool".

Green Eyes sets his case down a little ways away from Annabeth's station, and takes his guitar out. It's a simple guitar with six, shining new strings. His fingers twitch, as if itching to spider up and down the neck. Annabeth shudders slightly. She hates spiders, and she can't imagine his slender hands moving like one. He slings his instrument over his shoulder and begins to play, and she was right. His fingers are nothing like those creepy, crawling arachnids. They move like her own feet; gracefully and lightly, with care and love. Then he begins to sing.

_What's a dad for, Dad?_

_Tell me why I'm here, Dad._

_Whisper in my ear that I'm_

_growing up to be a better man, Dad._

Annabeth can't sing, but she knows a good voice when she hears one. And this is like nothing she's ever heard before. She wonders why Green Eyes is here in a subway station, wasting his talent, instead of out in the world, with a record deal and a thousand screaming fans.

_Father, I will always be_

_that same boy that stood by the sea,_

_and watched you tower over me._

_Now, I'm older, I want to be_

_the same as you._

He sings like she dances; emotionally. This song means something to him, and he wants to tell the world about it. A respectable crowd gathers around Green Eyes, but Annabeth can still see him. She decides if they block him from view, she won't join them to get a better look. She doesn't care enough.

_What's a dad for, Dad?_

_Taught me how to stand, Dad._

_Took me by the hand,_

_and showed me how to be a better man, Dad._

She thinks about her Dad, then decides not to. That's not a good memory. Things were just starting to get better between them when he left her, forever.

_When I am a dad, Dad,_

_I'm gonna be a good dad._

The lyric sounds childish to Annabeth, like a little girl saying, "Mommy, I'm going to be a famous ballerina." Maybe it's not so ridiculous to want to be a good parent, but to her, the line is more than that. It represents aspirations, which are painful, useless things. She wanted to be an architect. Now, she's given that up. Next, she wanted to be a successful dancer, which she now realizes will never happen. She's doomed to a life of dark, musty subway stations, her only audience being New Yorkers hurrying from place to place, barely glancing at her.

_Glad to call you my dad._

_Thank you for my life, Dad._

Annabeth is not thankful to be alive.

Percy Jackson can't get the grey-eyed girl out of his head.

He sees her the moment he steps into the subway station, moving gracefully to one of his favorite songs, Kids in Love. He's never really been in love. A long time ago, when he was fourteen, there was a girl named Calypso, but he doesn't think you can be in love when you're fourteen. She was nice. They had a lot of fun. But she was more a friend than a girlfriend, although that's what he called her.

Grey Eyes has been in love. She moves with so much emotion that she can't be just telling a story, she's telling an experience. He watches her, mesmerized, for the entire dance. People clap and drop money in her collecting bucket, and he wishes he had something to give her. Then, suddenly, their eyes meet. He doesn't know what to do. When was the last time a beautiful girl like Grey Eyes looked at him? So he stares back. Too late, he realizes this move is creepy and vaguely rapist-esque. But he doesn't want to look away, because her eyes are a breathtaking storm he can't take his eyes off of.

Without really thinking about it, he starts walking towards her. She seems like she knows how things work here on this underground stage, and he needs some tips. After stumbling through an awkward conversation with Grey Eyes, he finds himself set up a few yards away from her, his trusty guitar slung over his shoulder. He places his fingers over the frets and begins playing one of his favorites, Life of a Salesman.

It's a song about fathers, and Percy isn't sure why he loves it so much. He doesn't have a father. Well, okay, obviously he does. But he doesn't have a dad. His father ran out on him and his mom after his birth. He knows absolutely nothing about his father, except that he had ocean eyes and black hair, just like Percy.

A couple of times, Percy catches Grey Eyes watching him sing, but not quite as obsessively as he watched her dance. When he finishes Life of a Salesman, he goes right into On the Brightside, another one of his favorites. He can't really connect with this song, but he'd always thought it was a funny piece of music.

_I met a man of two feet tall._

_This man was quite ambitious,_

_in a world that is so vicious_

_to us all._

Percy knows a man of two feet tall...ish. Leo Valdez wasn't exactly two feet tall, but he was short. And ambitious? Definitely. Leo was an artist with a piece of metal. He could build anything. His parents were dead and he was constantly jumping from foster home to foster home, but he kept a smile on his face, because he knew he was going somewhere. No one found out that smile was fake until too late. Leo Valdez was found dead, a bullet in his skull and a gun in his lifeless hand, towards the end of ninth grade. And as Percy stared at the body of one of his former friends, all he could hear was Leo's voice in his head, jokingly saying, "High school will do that to you."

_I met a man of twelve feet tall._

_He towered like a giant,_

_in a world that was defiant_

_of his height._

Percy knows that man, too. Tyson is definitely a giant, although he might not be twelve feet tall. He's innocent and naïve, but Percy likes that about him. He's one of the kindest people Percy knows. But his personality doesn't fit well with his appearance. He's a big, muscular guy. But on the inside, he's a cuddly five year old. He was teased relentlessly, but he never let it get him down. Tyson is only a school friend, but he often seemed like more. For one thing, he shares Percy's sea-green eyes.

_You're only as tall,_

_as your heart will let you be._

_And you're only as small,_

_as the world will make you seem._

_And when the going gets rough,_

_and you feel like you may fall_

_just look on the brightside,_

_you're roughly six feet tall._

He needs this song now more than ever. He's lost everything. His home, his mom, his dream, his life. He's scared. But at least he's not an awkward giant or a shrimpy elf. Still, it doesn't feel right thinking that way. Tyson and Leo Valdez are two of the best people Percy's ever known.

When _On the Brightside_ is over, Percy keeps playing. He plays nearly everything in his repertoire. He plays until his fingers are sore, and then plays some more. The crowds getting on and off the subway start to thin. When a car opens its doors and lets out just two people, Grey Eyes turns off her MP3 and packs up her things. He watches her wistfully as she starts towards the stairs. She must have felt him watching, because she whirls around.

"What?" She demands. He starts, breaking his gaze.

"Nothing," He mutters.

"There won't be too many more people coming," She informs him, "you should probably pack up."

"Is the subway open all night?" He asks.

"Yeah," She replies, "but you won't be making much more money."

"I'll just stay here a little bit longer," He tells her. She shrugs.

"Your decision." She starts up the stairs, then turns around.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing," She says, then adds, "I'll be back tomorrow." With that, she hurries up the stairs and out of sight. Grey Eyes is the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

Percy isn't quite sure what he'll do now. He's hungry, but he hasn't made that much money, and he doesn't want to spend it all in one night. He has to save it up, so he can eventually find a place to live. Speaking of "place to live", he doesn't have one. He has no idea where he should sleep for the night. He's not good at being homeless. He doesn't know where the most dangerous people are, who won't let you eat out of their dumpsters, and what parks have comfortable benches.

But this subway station doesn't seem like a bad idea. It's warm and protected from the rain, and he appears to be the only homeless creeper around, so no one's going to sneak up on him, stab him, and steal all his earnings and Bozhena. Plus, the New York subway system is open 24 hours a day, so the police aren't going to throw him out. Thusly decided, he places Bozhena back in her case, and lays down on the ground. Honestly, it isn't so bad. It doesn't even smell that gross down here. He closes his eyes, and he can picture where he wants to be.

Not back in his room, warm and safe, but somewhere right out of a childhood dream. He is in the bottom of the ocean, curled up in the sand. The sounds of the world are muffled by the water, and everything is blue and iridescent. He shouldn't be able to breathe, but he can. It's a dream. Why not? He is alone here. There are no angry mothers, telling him to give up his dream and go to college. There are no runaway fathers, who abandon you and your mother and leave you to your own devices. There are no people giving him judgemental looks as he plays his guitar for a living, down beneath the bustling city of New York.

He finally falls asleep, still down in the bottom of the ocean, and he doesn't dream of his mother, or his father, or his ruined career. All he sees that night are deep, stormy, grey eyes.


End file.
